“Yes, but it was scared stiff and fell in a pool anddrowned,” Michael said.

“Thank goodness for that!” said Howl.

“It was very sad,” Sophie said.

“Sad, was it?” said Howl, more upset than ever.“It was your idea, was it? It would be! I can just see youhopping about the marshes, encouraging him! Let me tell you, that wasthe most stupid thing he’s ever done in his life. He’dhave been more than sad if he’d chanced to catch the thing! Andyou—”

Calcifer flickered sleepily up the chimney. “What’sall this fuss about?” he demanded. “You caught oneyourself, didn’t you?”

“Yes, and I—!” Howl began, turning his glass-marbleglare on Calcifer. But he pulled himself together and turned toMichael instead. “Michael, promise me you’ll never try tocatch one again.”

“I promise,” Michael said willingly. “What isthat writing, if it’s not a spell?”

Howl looked at the gray paper in his hand. “It’scalled ‘Song’—and that’s what it is, I suppose. Butit’s not all here and I can’t remember the rest ofit.” He stood and thought, as if a new idea had struck himwhich obviously worried him. “I think the next verse wasimportant,” he said. “I’d better take it back andsee—” He went to the door and turned the knob black-down. Thenhe paused. He looked round at Michael and Sophie, who were naturallyenough both staring at the knob. “All right,” he said.“I know Sophie will squirm through if I leave her behind, andthat’s not fair to Michael. Come along, both of you, soI’ve got you where I can keep my eye on you.”

He opened the door on the nothingness and walked into it. Michaelfell over the stool in his rush to follow. Sophie shed parcels rightand left into the hearth as she sprang up too. “Don’t letany sparks get on those!” she said hurriedly to Calcifer.

“If you promise to tell me what’s out there,”Calcifer said. “You’ve had your hint, by theway.”

“Did I?” said Sophie. She was in too much of a hurryto attend.

The nothingness was only an inch-thick after all.Beyond it, in a gray, drizzling evening, was a cement path down to agarden gate. Howl and Michael were waiting at the gate. Beyond thatwas a flat, hard-looking road lined with houses on both sides. Sophielooked back at where she had come from, shivering rather in thedrizzle, and found the castle had become a house of yellow brick withlarge windows. Like all the other houses, it was square and new, witha front door of wobbly glass. Nobody seemed to be about among thehouses. That may have been due to the drizzle, but Sophie had afeeling that it was really because, in spite of there being so manyhouses, this was really somewhere at the edge of a town.

“When you’ve quite finished nosing,” Howlcalled. His gray-and-scarlet finery was all misted with drizzle. Hewas dangling a bunch of strange keys, most of which were flat andyellow and seemed to match the houses. When Sophie came down thepath, he blurred, as if the drizzle round him had suddenly become afog. When it came into focus again, it was still scarlet-and-gray,but quite a different shape. The dangling sleeves were gone and thewhole outfit was baggier. It looked worn and shabby.

Michael’s jacket had become a waist-length padded thing. Helifted his foot, with a canvas shoe on it, and stared at the tightblue things encasing his legs. “I can hardly bend myknee,” he said.

“You’ll get used to it,” said Howl. “Comeon, Sophie.”

To Sophie’s surprise, Howl led the way back up the gardenpath toward the yellow house. The back of his baggy jacket, she saw,had mysterious words on it: WELSH RUGBY. Michael followed Howl,walking in a kind of tight strut because of the things on his legs.Sophie looked down at herself and saw twice as much skinny legshowing above her knobby shoes. Otherwise, not much about her hadchanged.

Howl unlocked the wavy-glass door with one of his keys. It had awooden notice hanging beside it on chains. RIVENDELL, Sophie read, asHowl pushed her into a neat, shiny hall space. There seemed to bepeople in the house. Loud voices were coming from behind the nearestdoor. When Howl opened that door, Sophie realized that the voiceswere coming from magic colored pictures moving on the front of a big,square box.

“Howell!” exclaimed a woman who was sitting thereknitting.

She put down her knitting, looking a little annoyed, but beforeshe could get up, a small girl, who had been watching the magicpicture very seriously with her chin in her hands, leaped up andflung herself at Howl. “Uncle Howell!” she screamed, andjumped halfway up Howl with her legs wrapped around him.

“Mari!” Howl bawled in reply. “How are you,cariad? Been a good girl, then?” He and the little girl brokeinto a foreign language then, fast and loud. Sophie could see theywere very special to one another. She wondered about the language. Itsounded the same as Calcifer’s silly saucepan song, but it washard to be sure. In between bursts of foreign chatter, Howl managedto say, as if he were a ventriloquist, “This is my niece, Mari,and my sister, Megan Parry. Megan, this is Michael Fisher andSophie—er—”

“Hatter,” said Sophie.

Megan shook hands with both of them in a restrained, disapprovingway. She was older than Howl, but quite like him, with the same long,angular face, but her eyes were blue and full of anxieties, and herhair was darkish. “Quiet now, Mari!” she said in a voicethat cut through the foreign chatter. “Howell, are you stayinglong?”

“Just dropped in for a moment,” Howl said, loweringMari to the floor.

“Gareth isn’t in yet,” Megan said in a meaningsort of way.

“What a pity! We can’t stay,” Howl said, smilinga warm, false smile. “I just thought I’d introduce you tomy friends here. And I want to ask you something that may soundsilly. Has Neil by any chance lost a piece of English homeworklately?”

“Funny you should say that!” Megan exclaimed.“Looking everywhere for it, he was, last Thursday! He’sgot this new English teacher, see, and she’s very strict,doesn’t just worry about spelling either. Puts the fear of Godinto them about getting work in on time. Doesn’t do Neil anyharm, lazy little devil! So here he is on Thursday, hunting high andlow, and all he can find is a funny old piece of writing—”

“Ah,” said Howl. “What did he do with thatwriting?”

“I told him to hand it in to this Miss Angorian ofhis,” Megan said. “Might show her he tried foronce.”

“And did he?” Howl asked.

“I don’t know. Better ask Neil. He’s upin the front bedroom with that machine of his,” said Megan.“But you won’t get a word of sense out of him.”

“Come on,” Howl said to Michael and Sophie, who wereboth staring around the shiny brown-and-orange room. He tookMari’s hand and led them all out of the room and up the stairs.Even those had a carpet, a pink-and-green one. So the procession ledby Howl hardly made any noise as it went along the pink-and-greenpassage upstairs and into a room with a blue-and-yellow carpet. ButSophie was not sure the two boys crouched over the various magicboxes on a big table by the window would have looked up even for anarmy with a brass band. The main magic box had a glass front like theone downstairs, but it seemed to be showing writing and diagrams morethan pictures. All the boxes grew on long, floppy white stalks thatappeared to be rooted in the wall at one side of the room.

“Neil!” said Howl.

“Don’t interrupt,” one of the boys said.“He’ll lose his life,”

Seeing it was a matter of life and death, Sophie and Michaelbacked toward the door. But Howl, quite unperturbed at killing hisnephew, strode over to the wall and pulled the boxes up by the roots.The picture on the box vanished. Both boys said words which Sophiedid not think even Martha knew. The second boy spun round, shouting,“Mari! I’ll get you for that!”